


John's Back

by BubbleGumLizard



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Back Pain, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Massage, Sweet Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-20
Updated: 2016-02-20
Packaged: 2018-05-22 01:48:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6066093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BubbleGumLizard/pseuds/BubbleGumLizard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When John throws his back out, he is surprised to find that Sherlock is able and willing to help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	John's Back

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! I was going to post a chapter of "Never Alone", but my husband and I are celebrating our anniversary today (four years!) and I didn't want to write angst. So you're getting fluff instead! Enjoy!

It was bound to happen sooner or later. He wasn’t getting any younger, after all. His father had experienced similar issues for years before his death, so it was inevitable. “Dad wasn’t in good shape like I am,” John announced to the empty room, feeling a need to distance himself from his father, even if the comparison was only in his head.

John groaned and covered his face with his hands. He needed to just work through it. That was it. Ignore it and it will go away. Taking a deep breath, John stood in one swift motion, practically jumping up off of the couch.

As he took a step away, he cried out, stumbled, and then dropped to the floor. The pain in his back was too great, he couldn’t ignore it. Annoyed, he slammed his fist on the floor, turning his head as well as he could, trying to figure out a way to get back onto the couch.

Sherlock’s door opened, no doubt disturbed by the noise, and John swore at himself. He had just managed to convince Sherlock that sleep was a necessary biological function, now Sherlock had an excuse to be awake.

“John?” Sherlock asked from above him.

“Yes, Sherlock?” John asked, not looking up at him. It was embarrassing, being unable to move in front of a magnificent physical specimen like Sherlock. Sherlock never threw his back out. No part of Sherlock was ever anything but perfect.

“Why are you on the floor?”

“You’re the detective, figure it out,” John snapped, annoyed at the situation.

“Ah,” Sherlock said quietly after a moment.

John heard Sherlock walk away and his door shut and sighed, pleased that he was deemed unworthy of further attention. He didn’t want Sherlock to see him as helpless and he certainly didn’t want Sherlock to think of him as an old man.

After a few minutes, Sherlock’s door opened again, making John look up. Sherlock stooped and turned John over, scooping him up. He stood, holding John as if he weighed nothing at all, like John was some damsel in distress.

“What are you doing?” John demanded, trying to struggle, wincing as another spasm of pain shot through his back.

“Be quiet, John,” Sherlock said, carrying John up the stairs to John’s bedroom. “You should be in bed and you’ll hardly be able to get yourself there.”

He gently set John down on the bed. John expected him to leave then, but instead Sherlock knelt by the bed and began untying John’s shoes. When they were set neatly by the bed, where John kept them, Sherlock moved up and began unbuckling John’s belt.

John reached out and grabbed Sherlock’s hands. “Sherlock!” he said, much louder than he intended, horrified.

“Sleeping in your trousers would be very uncomfortable,” Sherlock said matter-of-factly. “Are you going to remove them yourself?”

John thought about it for a moment. Sherlock was right, he didn’t want to sleep in his trousers and he certainly wasn’t in a position to remove them himself. “I suppose you have a point,” he said finally, looking up at the ceiling. The sight of Sherlock removing John’s trousers would undoubtedly affect John in a very embarrassing way that John wanted to avoid.

Sherlock was very gentle as he pulled John’s trousers off, covering his legs with the blanket and then sliding his hands up John’s sides and pulling his jumper up and over his head before beginning to unbutton John’s shirt. John closed his eyes, feeling heat rise to his cheeks as he was undressed.

“You don’t need to be embarrassed,” Sherlock said conversationally. “You’ve seen me in various states of undress. You’ve even undressed me, when I’ve been hurt and needed help.”

John nodded. He supposed that was true. That was different, though. John could never see Sherlock as helpless. There was no other word to describe John at the moment, however, and it was more than John could bear.

John felt a hand on his chest and opened his eyes to see Sherlock slowly running his hand down John’s chest, a strange smile on his face.

“Sherlock?” John asked, his breath catching in his throat.

Sherlock’s looked up and locked eyes with John. “I never see your bare chest.”

John couldn’t help himself, his eyes darted to Sherlock’s t-shirt covered chest as he thought about how regularly he saw Sherlock without a shirt. John swallowed thickly and bit his lip, flushing bright red as he returned his gaze to Sherlock’s face.

“I’m going to roll you over,” Sherlock said suddenly and deftly flipped John onto his stomach.

“Why?” John asked weakly, all indignation at being treated like a doll faded to a vague sense of unease.

“So I can massage your back,” Sherlock said. As he spoke, John felt strong hands begin to gently rub, probing up and down his back to find the sore spots.

John let out an embarrassing groan as Sherlock found the right spot and began to massage with a skill John didn’t know he possessed. He pressed his face into the pillow to muffle any more noises and tried to imagine it was someone other than his gorgeous flatmate whose hands were all over his back.

“Do you mind if…” Sherlock trailed off and his weight on the bed shifted as he swung his leg over John and sat on John’s bum.

“That’s fine,” John mumbled. If he were honest, the weight on his rear end was very comfortable.

After a few minutes of massage, John turned his head away from the pillow. “Where did you learn this?” he asked.

Sherlock hesitated for a moment and then smiled. “Did you know that Mycroft has a bad back? He always has, since he was a child. That’s why he carries that ridiculous umbrella everywhere. If he always carries it, it’s less noticeable when his back is out and he uses it as a cane.”

John thought about that for a moment. He never would have had any idea that Mycroft had back issues. Mycroft seemed so polished and perfect, like a statue that could move and talk. The thought of him being unable to move from back pain was ridiculous.

“He always tried to ignore the pain and keep moving, the fool. Without fail, it would get worse and worse, until he could barely move. So I learned massage.” Sherlock ran his hands firmly down John’s back and began gently rubbing John’s hips, making John bite his lip and try to force his blood to stay in its proper place instead of rushing south like it wanted to. It didn’t help that Sherlock was revealing a new, tender side to himself, a side that made John want to throw his arms around him and hold him forever.

“In time, I could help him avoid the major pain altogether. Until recently, he would call me when his back started to hurt and I would massage it away for him.”

“Mmm,” John said noncommittally, trying to think about Mycroft instead of the strong hands that were moving lower and lower.

Without warning, Sherlock slid his hands back up to John’s upper back. John was briefly sad, until Sherlock’s weight on him shifted as he leaned forward to put his mouth next to John’s ear. “Massaging you is much nicer.”

John froze. Something hard and obvious was pressing into him when Sherlock leaned forward like that. Before he could react, he felt gentle kisses under his ear, moving to the back of his neck as Sherlock continued his massage.

John moaned in pleasure, not sure what he was reacting to, but enjoying all of it. “Sherlock…” he said breathlessly as Sherlock trailed light, gentle kisses down his back, following strong hands.

When Sherlock reached John’s lower back, he reached up and helped John roll over. Feeling much better, John was able to prop himself up to look down at Sherlock, who was in a very interesting position.

Sherlock locked eyes with John, smiling as he reached up and slid John’s pants down. John gasped as Sherlock lowered his head. When Sherlock’s mouth was almost on John’s hard cock, close enough that John could feel his hot breath on his shaft, Sherlock froze and looked up at John.

“This is wrong,” Sherlock said, sitting up.

“What’s wrong?” John asked, bewildered. He could see nothing wrong about the situation.

Sherlock smiled and crawled up the bed so he was practically laying on John, his legs on either side of John’s, his arms resting on John’s pillow, around John’s head. “We haven’t kissed yet,” Sherlock told him quietly.

John couldn’t help but break into a wide smile. “You’re right, as usual.”

Sherlock lowered his head, fitting his lips firmly against John’s. John moaned into the kiss, letting his eyes drift closed so he could enjoy how talented Sherlock’s mouth was.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” Sherlock murmured between kisses, his hips twitching and bringing their erections into contact. Sherlock pulled away for a moment, wiggling out of his pajama bottoms and kicking them off.

“You have no idea how much I want you,” John said thickly, pulling Sherlock down into another kiss. He gasped again as Sherlock moved his hips against John’s. “I’ve never wanted anyone more.”

Sherlock smiled, moving in for a deep, exploratory kiss as his hand drifted down and began stroking John firmly, just the way John liked.

“I think I can imagine,” Sherlock said when he broke off the kiss so they could breathe, his hand speeding up and making John unable to concentrate on kissing.

John threw his head back, his hips bucking as Sherlock moved to kiss John’s neck, his hand moving faster and faster, until John was crying out, gripping the bedsheets tightly as his eyes slammed shut and he came with an intensity he had never before experienced, shouting “Sherlock!”

As he came down from his orgasm, John turned his head to see Sherlock sharing his pillow, smiling sleepily at him. “What about you?” John asked, stifling a yawn.

Sherlock smiled. “Taken care of.”

“What do you mean, you didn’t—” John was cut off as Sherlock kissed him.

“You looked so sexy, that was all I needed,” Sherlock whispered.

“Are you telling me that you came just by watching me?” John asked, pulling away to look at Sherlock’s face.

Sherlock smiled and kissed John again. “Is that okay?” he asked quietly after a moment.

He felt completely spent, but at the thought of Sherlock’s reaction to John, his cock started stirring again. “You have no idea…” John said, sliding his hand around to the back of Sherlock’s head and holding him tightly as he thoroughly kiss him.

Sherlock laughed when John released him. “I think, Doctor Watson, it would be wise for you to remain in bed for the present. For your back.”

“That sounds like a sound course of action,” John said, nodding. “For my back.”


End file.
